


I don't make the rules

by metalouise (statistical_nightmare)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied future Bucky Barnes / Steve Rogers, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Steve Rogers (implied), Prequel, Unintentional Hurt/Intentional Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statistical_nightmare/pseuds/metalouise
Summary: Prince James - Bucky to his friends - is the heir to the throne. As a royal, not to mention betrothed as a toddler to the prince of a neighbouring kingdom, he's held to a high moral standard. He's forbidden normal relationships, and his ruts are catered for by a succession of noble omegas in exchange for political favours.All he wants is intimacy.Fortunately, his principal bodyguard has a sense of humour that helps him deal with things while he waits for Prince Steven to reach marriagable age.-------A Bucky POV backstory to Betrothed Before Birth that no one asked for except me, but #yolo. Can be read as a standalone but you should really read Betrothed Before Birth too to get the emotional payoff and some excellent Steve POV smut.Content Note: The Rape/Non-Con tag is just me erring on the side of caution. Sex takes place in return for political favours, but nobody forces themselves on anyone else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Betrothed Before Birth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721313) by [cleo4u2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2), [xantissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa). 



Prince James - Bucky, to his friends - awakes from a much needed nap, rustling the heavy brocade blankets and crisp cotton sheets. He opens his eyes to the woman next to him in the bed. She's classically beautiful, for an omega, with a delicate frame and slender limbs. Her pale skin is contrasted by the deep glossy red of her silk chemise. Her dark brown hair pools at her defined collarbones. Not to Bucky's usual taste, but he can appreciate beauty in many forms, and he's an alpha, after all.

Bucky can't remember her name.

Dammit.

Mary? Maria? Marie? Marie! That's it! Her father is one of the lower nobility, angling for a higher profile. Bucky remembers this from the introductions a few days ago. In his defence, he was somewhat distracted at the time.

He watches her. Marie is gazing at the upholstered ceiling of the four-poster bed, lost in her own thoughts. She gives the impression of luxuriant ease, but Bucky is familiar by now with this act. Everyone has their tells. Marie's dainty fingers are toying with one of the tassels on the bedspread. She looks... uncomfortable.

How dislocating it is, to be so physically close with another person, and yet be so emotionally far away.

Bucky makes a display of fidgeting himself awake. Hopefully she won't have realised he was watching. The show must go on.

Any apprehensions she may have slide smoothly from her face as she turns to him. "My lord."

"I told you, Marie, we are well past the point of such formalities. You may call me James."

She nods, but Bucky knows she will do no such thing.

"The servants brought in food while you were sleeping. Do you need to eat before we continue?"

Bucky can already feel the roiling tension firing up his groin, but it's not the frenzied sexual incoherence of the last day or so. His rut is subsiding into a more manageable arousal. Marie will be relieved, he thinks. He doesn't remember much of the rut, but she wasn't precisely begging for more.

He wonders, not for the first time, what it might be like to have sex with someone who wants him for his own sake. No favours or political motives. Someone who genuinely wants Bucky. Someone who will laugh with him, challenge him. Someone he could keep.

Not much chance of that happening, he thinks, bitterly. The heir to the throne is held to the highest of moral standards, and he's known his whole life that he won't be allowed to marry for love.

He shakes it off as the desire starts to build. Marie must sense it, because she has rolled to face him and her hands move towards his cock. Her frown is mostly concealed by her hair.

He gives her the most reassuring smile he can muster, given his hormonal disadvantage. "Not yet, darling," he says, "allow me to ease the way." He rolls her gently back and moves down the bed, coming to rest on top of her, chin to her belly. She's lean there too, so he's careful not to rest his chin downwards, in case it hurts.

Marie realises what the plan is, and as he pushes up her slip she dutifully parts her thighs. Bucky kisses softly up her inner thigh, not noticing that she is twitching slightly as his stubble grates against smooth pale skin; his eyes are closed. He breathes deeply, inhaling the sweet smell of omega arousal. He enjoys this for its own sake, and he'll take whatever intimacy he can get.

He looks up at her face, opening his eyes to check she's on board with this plan. Marie nods. He applies his tongue to her clit, licking gently, but insistently. The taste of her fills his mouth, and he groans, contented.

Marie makes breathy pleased sounds - as if she wasn't expecting this kind of attention from a prince - and Bucky feels his cock harden. He slides his tongue inside her, and begins to thrust it in and out. She gasps.

He feels her flinch.

Almost imperceptibly, as if she's been trained by noble breeding to hide signs of weakness, or just out of instinctive omega submission, but a flinch nonetheless.

What?

Bucky aborts the proceedings immediately and sits up back on his heels. From here, he can see her flushed and confused face.

"My lord?"

"I... are you quite alright? You... "

Bucky's stomach churns as he watches her reflexively school her face back into placid acceptance.

"I am quite alright, my lord." She blushes. "But you do not have to do that."

Bucky hangs his head. She can't enjoy herself because of FUCKING politics and FUCKING politeness and his FUCKING TITLE and -

Marie's legs are still spread, but from this angle, now, he sees the bruises. Around her hips and thighs, where he gripped her too tightly. And her vulva is purplish from -

Bucky is queasy from horror and arousal and self loathing and he's not gonna vomit not gonna vomit not gonna not gonna -

"I - I hurt you - I did this - you didn't tell me - I - fuck I'm sorry I'm so sorry - "

Marie looks at him carefully, with the expression of concern one would give someone claiming to have travelled through time.

"You do not need to apologise, my lord. The risks were explained to us all when we volunteered for this opportunity. Lord Rumlow was very clear. Servicing an alpha in rut is in many ways a feat of endurance, but it is my honour, my lord, to perform this task for you. Please do not pay it any more mind. I am sorry that you noticed. It is my job to make this easy for you."

Bucky grinds his teeth and resists the surge of anger that threatens to send his fists through the wall.

"Do I not please you, your highness?" Marie looks frightened now, but even through his rut-haze Bucky can tell she is not frightened of him. Her physical safety could not be of less consequence; her only fear that she will be publicly dishonoured for this perceived failure and her family will suffer for it. Her hands are trembling. "Please, your majesty, it is nothing, you may continue."

Bucky is definitely going to be sick.

Turns out that concentrating on not vomiting does a reasonable job of quelling arousal. He swallows.

"Marie, this is not right. I never wanted to hurt you. You should not be hurt. You should have been able to say no if it hurt or ask for -"

Marie looks at him as if to say _good gods, you are so INCREDIBLY stupid_ , but refrains from rolling her eyes.

Bucky thinks he could like her, if he were allowed.

"I may be next in line to the throne, my lady, but this does not mean that I be allowed to go unchecked. The opposite, in fact."

Marie flashes a momentary smile. It's a small smile, and a nervous one; but it's real.

Bucky puts his rage to one side. As soon as he gets out of here, he's going to have to rip something apart in righteous fury, but for now, he has to take care of Marie.

"How can I right this wrong, my lady?"

Marie blushes, but her chin is set high and defiant. "The food, my lord. Let us eat."

It's an evasion, for sure. Bucky knows that if she says she wants to have more sex with him, he won't believe her, but she cannot refuse for fear of the possible repercussions.

First thing to happen when he's King will be to banish that SHITHEAD Rumlow.

For now, he will allow her to spare her dignity by sparing her this choice.

"We will eat, my lady. And then you may return to your household. I will put in a good word to the King for your father. Don't worry about Rumlow."

Marie's whole body relaxes with grateful relief.

They eat. At least the food is good.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky stomps across the cobbled courtyard, somehow both righteously furious and utterly dejected. His cloak swirls behind him. A group of courtiers begins the usual formal bow, but seeing his stormy expression, they scatter as respectfully as possible. Bucky pays them no further attention. He flings open the door of the armoury with an unnecessary bang. The ceremonial lances rattle and quake in their rack.

His principal bodyguard calmly looks up from her sharpening her enormous collection of knives and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Dear me, my lord. What a melodramatic entrance. Did you not enjoy your little vacation?"

Bucky is still grinding his teeth. He makes a conscious effort to stop. For a second it works.

His jaw clenches.

Oh well. It was worth a try. "Romanov, you should pay me the respect to which I am entitled! And for the last time, being forced spend my FUCKING ruts with reluctant daughters of social climbing courtiers is not a vacation!"

Romanov smirks. "My lord, if I was the kind of person to pay you such respect, you would not have hired me."

The prince kicks the rack of lances again. The clatter reverberates around the room.

Romanov folds her arms and holds his gaze. He sighs.

"Natasha, if I had not hired you, I wouldn't deserve any respect."

She takes pity on him.

"I know you hate it, James. But it is a necessary evil, and a temporary one. The sooner you reconcile yourself to it and forswear the temper tantrums, the sooner you will stop terrifying innocent palace inhabitants. You are not the only one to suffer this fate, and not all of us have your privileges."

Natasha is correct. As usual. At least he doesn't have the indignity of riding out his rut alone.

"So which lucky omega drew the - ah - long straw this time?"

James fights a valiant and yet inevitably unsuccessful battle against a smirk.

"Marie," he replies. "Her father the Viceroy wants to be given rights in perpetuity over the land he just purchased, so I suppose the loan of his daughter's body is small price to pay for the goodwill of the heir."

Natasha nods. Court politics is full of these high risk, high yield, long term investments. As an observer, she can appreciate the complexity of such machinations. As a human being, she shares James's misgivings.

If you remove the emotional aspects, it makes perfect sense that the biological imperative of the royal heir's body be tightly controlled. Any sexual relationship opens the royal house up to potential unsavoury gossip, and a bastard child would be unthinkable.

Moreover, James was already betrothed. At one year of age, he was formally promised to the newborn omega prince of a neighbouring kingdom.

As is tradition, then, his ruts are carefully managed by installing him in the far wing of the palace with one of a series of mostly willing (and rarely, enthusiastic) omegas.

Bucky wants to kick the lances again, but Natasha is looking pointedly at him and motions for him to continue. An alpha herself, she's amused and despite her diminutive size, not in the least bit terrified by his temper. If only it was acceptable for an omega woman to be so assertive. A fresh wave of rage hits. 

"Natasha, I hurt her, I hurt her and I didn't notice because of my FUCKING hormones and she was so small and delicate and the worst thing is that she didn't FUCKING care that it hurt only terrified that my displeasure makes it back to the court so she NEVER SAID ANYTHING and - "

Almost too quick to see, Natasha picks up a knife, and launches it through the air, aiming right for his head. Equally as fast, Bucky grabs it mid-flight, and throws it directly at one of the ceremonial shields on the wall.

The knife embeds itself in the leather cover, with a thunk. Bucky and Natasha watch it oscillate in place for a moment. It makes an interesting sound as it vibrates.

Bucky thumps the table and the knives rattle. "FUCK!"

"Are you quite finished, James?"

Bucky scowls at her, the room, the still-quivering knife, himself, then sinks down at the table with her. Natasha hands him a dull knife and a whetstone, and he gets to work. It's soothing.

"Because as it happens, your rut management problems are about to end. The young prince Steven is now formally of marriageable age. The ambassador will arrive in court today to finalise the wedding arrangements."

Bucky has no idea how Natasha always knows everything before his father's advisers do, but he suspects its for the best that he doesn't.

He drops his face to his hands.

"Can't believe I'm going to be married to someone I've never met and no one knows anything about."

"I tried to find out more about the young prince, but he lives in almost total seclusion. His honour must be preserved."

Bucky can well imagine. It's bad enough for him, let alone for someone who could bear children. "He's said to be small." His heart sinks further. A high born omega of good breeding, kept in cotton wool no doubt, no doubt delicate of sensibility and dainty as his mother the queen. What if he hurts him? What if the court find out? The alliance -

Natasha cuts off his thoughts. "This is true, but nobody has seen him since before puberty. So it is unlikely, but possible, that the rumours are misleading."

Bucky groans.

"James. Snap out of it." Natasha's tone is sharp. He looks up. "You are to be married whether you like it or not. Get your head together. You will have the rest of your lives to figure out how to make it work. And it is not in any way inevitable that you hurt him. You are a good and kind man, and the prince will understand this soon enough."

Bucky hopes she's right. "Marie said that Rumlow tells them all that they should take their poundings with good grace and a yes please, and if anyone complains, he'll let it be known in court."

Natasha's expression hardens. "That irredeemable BASTARD. Your first act as king - "

"Don't worry, I have the banishment decree drawn up and ready to sign."

She grins, wolfishly. "Maybe I could cause him some trouble right now. I happen to know that he's been spreading rumours about the management of the Guard that could, in certain lights, be seen as treasonous."

Bucky grins back, happier than he's been all day. "I won't stop you."

They resume their knife sharpening in a comfortable silence. Bucky thinks that if his future husband is even a fraction as good as Natasha, things might work out just fine. 

There's a knock on the door, and a messenger appears. She sees the vast array of knives on the table and gulps. It is quite a lot of knives. "Your highness, the King requests your presence. The ambassador is here."

Natasha looks smug. "Yeah, yeah, Romanov, you're the best." Bucky acknowledges the message with a nod, and the messenger retreats. Natasha speedily gathers the knives into their leather roll, and stands gracefully, ready for action.

Bucky throws her a casual salute.

"Come on, then. Let's go see a man about a wedding."


End file.
